


A Modest Adjustment

by CaptainLordAuditor



Series: New Americana [1]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Era, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Trans Male Character, Trans Racetrack Higgins, Trans Spot Conlon, haircut, illustrated for your enjoyment, really just entirely fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-04-18 13:34:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14214252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainLordAuditor/pseuds/CaptainLordAuditor
Summary: Race gives himself a haircut.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've never done this before - posting an illustrated fic, or written newsies fic. I actually finished the fic a few days ago, but waited to post it so I could post the painting at the same time. Hope you guys enjoy! If you'd like to see a high quality version of the picture, you can find me on tumblr as captainlordauditor.

Racetrack Higgins stands in front of the mirror in the lodging house, his head tilted forward as he stares intently at his reflection.

Snip. Snip. He grabs chunks of his hair and cuts it off, the scissors in his hand closing sometimes with difficulty until it’s all somewhere above his shoulders. That’s not enough, so he tries to cut the bottom layers shorter, but it still looks wrong, so he gives up and just makes it as short as he can.

He’s trying to figure out how to do the area around his ears when Spot comes in and Race freezes.

“You want help?”

All of Race’s instincts scream _no,_ but he knows he can’t do it himself so he forces himself to say, “yeah.”

Spot holds out his hand and Race hands him the scissors cautiously, sitting on the floor so Spot can reach his head.

“Thanks.”

“S’all right.” Spot finger-combs Race’s hair so he can separate it into clumps more easily. “I had to get Dotty to help me with mine.” He pushes Race’s head forward; Race takes the hint and tilts it down.

“It don’t look right,” Race mumbles. “Can’t get it even.”

Spot chuckles. “So? We’s newsies. We don’t have to look good. Just young. Your cap’ll cover it, anyway.”

There’s an unspoken communication between them, that at some point or another Spot went through the same thing Race is going through right now, only on his own. Now that he’s gotten his feet wet, Race is thinking about diving into the water. He chews his lip as Spot cuts his hair, working up the courage to talk.

Snip. Snip. Hair falls onto his arms and back.

After a few moments, Race talks.“Guess new clothes’ll help with that too, huh. With looking young.”

“Yeah.” Spot leans down to even out the back. “I bet you we got extras in Brooklyn if you want to come over and look.”

“Big, so’s you can’t see nothing.”

“Yeah.” Spot brushes hair off of Race’s bare shoulders and hands him the scissors. “Looks good.”

“Course you says that,” Race says, shaking his head to clear it of the loose hairs. “You’s the one that did it.” He looks up in the mirror to see Spot shrug, and considers his reflection. Spot’s right, it does look good. Not great, but good; certainly better than it did long. He’s not sure if he’s ever had a haircut before, and he grins. It’s somewhat ruined by the fact that without a shirt he can see his breasts and the narrowness of his shoulders all too clearly, but it’s a _step_.

He tries to imagine himself on the corner, in a shirt and vest like Spot and the others wear, and the image is hard to retain, but sooner rather than later it’ll be a reality. He pulls on his cap, and finds the blouse he was wearing before he started cutting his hair.

“Thanks,” he says again to Spot.

“No problem. You changing your name?”

Race pulls more hairs off his neck. “Figured I’d keep it.” It’s not the name his mother gave him, anyway, and it’s masculine enough. Not much else matters. He doesn’t need to change everything. Just a modest adjustment.

Spot nods. “I gotta go talk to Sullivan. See you around, yeah? Want to come by Thursday, look at those clothes?”

Race tries to keep himself from grinning stupidly. “Yeah. See you then.”

Spot goes, and Racetrack Higgins stands in front of the mirror in the lodging house, trying to imitate his way of standing.


	2. Illustrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate version of the illustration in chapter 1, and a higher quality version of the one shown in chapter 1.


End file.
